A poem about living with inadequate care

‘This can’t be my life’.
A thought I’ve fought
a million times.

My life is valid,
I have something to give,
I still have purpose.
I repeat, until I believe.

But this flat is not my own
It smells of you.
It’s your floorplan
outside this room.

I know your pains
but you ignore mine
– they’re less valid.

This is your job,
but this is my life;
A distinction
they failed to teach you.

My words ignored,
or misunderstood?
Yours elevated by those
who should protect me.

When you leave
the countdown starts
and then…you’re back.

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